


A Simple Game

by ermIdunno



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He is our stupid baby boi and we love to see him cry, Hurt! Malcolm, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it is but it's also a torture game?, Kinda, Makes total sense right?, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, None of the kinky kind tho. Sorry., Torture, Whump, idk youll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermIdunno/pseuds/ermIdunno
Summary: The team is taken by a psychotic man from Gils past. He wants Gil to suffer for a mistake he made long ago and he’s found the best way to make this happen. To force Gil and his beloved team into playing a sick game of chance. Lucky for Malcolm he is right at the center of it.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	A Simple Game

“MALCOLM!”

Dani’s terrified words echo off the damp and dirty walls of a forgotten subway chamber, each repetition somehow taking on a life of its own, a new note amplified and twisted into something strange. Something worse. Every syllable ripped out of her throat, so raw and sincere. Her own voice mocking her now. The words repeated back to her like a laugh, like a curse.  _ Malcolm, no. Mal, no. No. Why does it have to be him? _

Malcolm falls to the ground with a dull thud. A splash of water explodes at his knees. Dani winces from the sight of it as she imagines a spark of pain traveling up her own spine. Nothing in this hollow dark chamber is soft, everything inch rough and coarse. His knees will be scraped she thinks, but that's the least of his worries. Some bruised knees, how silly.

A knife sticks out of his abdomen. Its sudden appearance is as shocking as it’s exit. Blood pools quickly in its wake. Dripping down in quiet drops to greet the water on the floor.

Malcolm just barely catches himself. His arms reach out in front of him with fingers stretched wide and knuckles white. He’s panting, throat making weak choking noises that he can’t seem to control as he tries to swallow down the pain. 

A large man stands above him, glaring down at Malcolm with a satisfied smirk. Vincent Osoff. Every part of this man seems swollen somehow, bulkier than it should be. His shoulders are a massive wall of fat and muscle. They block what little light shines from the ceiling. It will take the whole team to bring him to the ground or more than one bulliet. 

Vincent crouches to meet Malcolm’s ear. The knife remains swallowed in his bulgy grip, his other hand holds up a small coin between two chunky fingers. He admires it while he speaks. 

“Wow you're lucky, I really wanted to stick her,” he spits out and glances at Dani. 

Malcolm avoids Dani’s piercing gaze. Worried that if he looks now, it will break him. Remind him of softer times and more fragile emotions. She’s always been able to see right through him. He needs to be strong, so instead he looks down between his hands, sees his own reflection staring back at him, rippling in the shallow puddle. It looks stronger than he feels, surprises him, and makes him feel defiant.

“This,” - gasp - “,isn’t a very,” - a sharp inhale - “,nice game.” And with a swift kick to the ribs, Malcolm lays sprawled on his side. The agony exploding through his chest reminds him that sarcasm is maybe not always worth it. He can hear Dani shouting next to him, but the ringing in his ears has muffled the details of her words. He watches her now, the pain making him feel detached from his surroundings, an onlooker. She fights against the restraints that hold her; judging by her expression, her words are meant for Vincent and they aren't very polite. 

From Malcolms new position on the ground he can see the entire team. Dani, Gil and JT are all bound to their own chair, forced into being the captive audience for Vincent's sick variety show. Gil looks enraged in a way Malcolm has never witnessed before. A chilling serenity to his fury that makes him look more focused and alert than the rest of the team. 

Gil twitches in his seat. He can’t stand this. He has known Malcolm long enough to tell when the kid is putting on an act. Saving face. A mixture of worry and remorse bubbles up through him and quickly transforms into anger. Gil has to do something, anything. He watches as Malcolm slowly gains control of himself again, forcing past the pain. He may be steadily bleeding out, but _ the kid’s grinning.  _ Even when he is sprawled on the ground with a second seeping stab wound and a nasty gash to the head. Even when his life hangs in the balance, the scales unfairly controlled by a maniac...Malcolm still manages to be well,  _ Malcolm.  _

It tears him apart.

“Malcolm, you're gonna be okay.” Gil speaks the words slowly. A calmness well practiced throughout his years on the force. Locking eyes with the profiler and ignoring all else, Gil nods his head in reassurance and he watches Malcolm relax just a fraction. Malcolms lips start to form a response, but he stops himself, his bright blue eyes pierce through Gil and he merely nods back in understanding. Gil’s surety seems convincing, but he just wishes he could believe it himself. 

_ I’m next, oh God. Not him. Not him. Please not him. Let it be me. _

How did they get here? How did they become victims of such an insidious game? Their current medley of equally unsavory cases were, as always, extremely disturbing, but this one was different. This case was long ago put to rest. At least, Gil had thought he’d solved this case a lifetime ago. Way before he became the silver haired man in charge and well before Malcolm or Dani and JT kept him up at night. The memories flood Gil’s mind. A game of chance. A coin. A monster of a man that no one ever survived.

Gil pulls at the restraints behind his back. He wriggles in the stiff wooden chair that traps him, old and weather worn by the feel of it. Tiny splinters dig into his back. His mind is a blur and he pieces together the flickering details. One minute they were driving out to a call and in the next instant, the car was tilted on its side. He recalls the sound of bent metal, it's harsh creak making him wince even in memory. They were in the warehouse district. Not many people around at 4am to hear the screech of melting tires and the awful bang of an impact. 

Gil’s brain starts to connect the dots. Malcolms closed eyes, a line of red dripping from the side of his head. Dani completely still, her face obstructed by her tousled hair. JT moaning, trying his hardest to regain full consciousness. He remembers the crash, but especially the seconds just before it. The slow motion feel of it all, the look on Malcolm’s face as his eyes widened in the passenger’s seat. JT’s abrupt yell as he saw the truck too and Dani’s quick reaction when she tucked her head and curled in on herself. Then they were upside down. Well, sideways down and hanging there like rag dolls. Ready to be taken and played with.

A large shape lingered outside the wreckage, taking in the sight. It started with Malcolm, unbuckling his seatbelt and dragging him over to what Gil assumed to be the transport vehicle, pulling him along without any consideration for the broken glass that littered the ground. JT was next; it took the shape longer to wrangle him out, seeing as they were closer in size, but it still managed to do it quickly. JT let out a disgruntled moan and the shape didn’t hesitate in knocking a harsh blow to the side of his head. That gave Gil the focus to finally curse. 

The shape made its way back around to look in through the car’s sunroof at Gil, finally meeting his inquisitive gaze. Only then did the shape have a face and a name. The realization hit Gil with the force of a second crash and he spat into Vincent’s excited eyes. Vincent only blinked, not bothered by the sudden fight Gil possessed; he was always spirited. Vincent wrapped a thick, steady hand around Gil’s throat and pulled him forward.

“Look at your surroundings, Gil. Take this all in.” 

The detective’s eyes searched Vincent’s face for any answers. 

“This is all for you, Gil, and this is all for my brother.”

That’s the last thing Gil remembers. He can feel the cold shock of what those words truly mean seeping over his body as if he were laying down in a shallow stream. Hear the pounding of his heart like the rushing of water, so loud and uncontrollable. If that’s true.  _ If that’s really true. _ If these games are all Vincent’s, then… then they had the wrong man. He had put the wrong person behind bars. Sentenced the wrong man to death.

Gil stares up toward Vincent’s towering shape, bloody knife in hand. The images of the wreck fade in his mind. Even after all these years, he seems just as powerful. How did they not know?

“You don’t need to do this, Vincent. They had nothing to do with this.” Gil explains, his hands firmly grip the chairs arms, if guilt was strength he would splenter the wood. Gil glances at Malcolm’s wounds while he voices his plea. The stab in the leg from the first round doesn't seem so bad but he notices how steadily the blood seeps between Bright’s fingers at his abdomen and how his face has begun to pale.

“I’m the only one that needs to suffer.” Gil begs.

“And that’s precisely the point  _ Detective Arroyo. _ ” Vincent spits the last two words with particular venom.

He points the knife tip down at Malcolm’s throat. Rests it’s sharp edge lightly against his skin. Malcolm’s breath hitches to a stop. His unbound arms raise in an -  _ easy easy -  _ motion.

“This is why the game is so much fun!” Vincent pops back up with a smile and Malcolm collapses in relief. Gil watches the madman pace back and forth between the confines of their makeshift dungeon. A half completed and abandoned subway chamber. The moving trains vibrate the walls from above.

A long pause and Vincent rests the knife on his hip, glancing to the side like he’s really thinking something over.

“You know, it’s a shame your wife still isn’t with us, Gil”.

Malcolm snarls and Gil lunges forward as much as his restraints will allow. 

“Do not talk about her.” Malcolm barks, beating Gil to the punch. An almost imperceivable wheeze follows behind his words. Barely there but Gil heard it and it makes his stomach drop. 

Vincent ignores the order. “It would have been so much fun to include her in the day’s festivities.”

In a sick way, this makes Gil thankful for her passing.

“But alas!” Vincent continues, “I have limited options so that’s why I’m stuck with  _ this one _ .” 

Vincent slams a booted heel into Malcolm’s side where his flesh is already torn. The scream that follows is primal and instinctive. It brings white dots to Malcolms vision, floating like snowflakes around the chamber. His chest convulses, muscles spasming from the pain. He can only blink away tears while his body adjusts to the sudden shock of it all.

Gil grows silent. Deadly quiet and still. Tearing a hole through Vincent with just a look.

“Ow, Gil. Don’t look at me like that, I’m just returning a favor”. 

“You won’t get away with this,” JT interjects, so normal and matter of fact, like a promise. Vincent’s head snaps in his direction.

Vincent's eyes are empty and it frightens JT more than he would like. He’s gotten fairly good over the years, telling the bad ones from just the average ones, but this, what this man is, is something else entirely. Vincent left JT’s arms bound behind his back, forcing him to awkwardly hunch in his seat. JT made it hard enough to get his legs bound to the chair, kicking and thrashing what he could. Vincent knew better than to risk unbinding his arms. 

JT’s back began to ache almost immediately from the unfamiliar position, but it doesn’t matter. He’s thankful. The rope around his wrists can be cut and he has already started to make progress. It’s slow and difficult. It's a tight space they're in and JT can not give away their only chance at escape. He’s been trying to get Gil’s attention for ages, but it hasn’t worked. No matter JT thinks. Gil will know what to do when the time comes.

Vincent flicks his little coin in the air and catches it. 

“Uh uh uh Staff Sergeant. You already had your turn. You lost!” he points to the hole in Malcolms leg and shrugs. 

He’s getting excited. JT notices the bounce of his knees and the twitch of his fingers around the weapon. His adrenaline and maybe even Malcolms blood is making him more impulsive. It turns JT cold, he knows in his gut that they don’t have much time. 

Dani sees JT’s clenched fists and the rope around them. She’s always been observant, most women have to be, especially a cop. She picks up on JT’s body language. He’s up to something and it gives her a tiny bit of hope. She turns quickly back to look down at Malcolm, his lips pursing as he forces himself to even out deep breaths. She looks at the space between them. It’s a small gap, but it feels like a mile. 

Gil raises his voice, “Listen to me, I---”

Vincent kicks again, this time a quick stinger with the toe of his heavy boot, it comes back smeared with blood. Malcolm curls in on himself and lets out a strangled version of a half yelp. Committed to controlling something, if only the sound of his own pain.

“No, no, Gil. We’re done talking!” Vincent exclaimes, “New rule! You talk and,” - boot to ribs and this time Malcolm only lets out a moan - “and Malcolm here gets to pay for it.”

Vincent looks around the room at all of them now. Levels his dark eyes on Dani with a curious glare. “Especially you Dear.” He makes his way over to her, sandwiched between Gil and JT. “I really don't appreciate being called names.” 

Dani almost speaks but stops herself just as quickly. She peaks around Vincent’s massive form. He’s blocking her view and it's hard to keep sight of Malcolm, but his blue eyes, damp from involuntary tears, quickly find hers.  _ I’m here with you.  _ She thinks and tries to convey with just a glance.  _ I’m here. We’re in this together. _

Vincent grabs Dani’s chin and forces her gaze upon him. Dani snarls, his hands reek of motor oil and blood. 

“What? You don’t want to look into my pretty eyes?” Vincent scoffs. Dani only glares as he continues their one sided conversation.

“Ol’ Malcolm didn’t even want me to flip the coin,” - He gives it a toss into the air with flair and it disappears into his hands as he catches it - “but where's the fun in that?” he adds as he rests the same hand on her shoulder and looks back at the profiler on the ground.

“You or him and he didn’t even hesitate.” 

Malcolm looks down at the consequences of that coin toss. The bleeding hasn’t slowed by much and both hands are smeared with the stuff, they shake as he lifts them to readjust. He has to get this seeping mess under control or he won’t be awake for much longer. Vincent continues his rant and it snaps Malcolm back into focus. 

“No game of chance. Just sacrifice.  _ How sweet. _ ” Vincent spits out the last words. 

Malcolm looks to Dani, a strangely peaceful expression on his face given their circumstances. He takes a labored breath before replying.

“For her. Anything.” It's a whisper. So matter of fact. So uncomplicated. Dani knows it's the truth, has been the truth for sometime, but the simplicity of it. The look in his eyes. It brings her to tears. She can’t start now or she wont stop. 

“Awe how  _ adorable _ you two.” Vincent mocks. “But at least we finally have the big reveal!” He announces in a booming tone and bows at the waist like a circus ringmaster. The motion seems too graceful for his alarming size. 

Gil’s head cocks to the side ever so slightly, just enough for Vincent to get his kicks. 

“They've been doing this,” Vincent waves his hands over Dani and Malcolm in a fluttering gesture, “for a while now.” Gil readjusts in his seat, but his face remains blank, giving nothing away.

Vincent clears his throat and whispers to Malcolm gleefully, like a schoolgirl spilling a playground secret, “I bet it hurts his feelings being the last to know.” 

Malcolm only looks away from the towering man. He can’t look at Gil either. This would have been great news any other day. Surprising of course, but he knows Gil would be happy for them. But to learn like this, Malcolm knows it only makes things harder. Adds to Gil’s already overwhelming guilt for this entire situation. No one should ever have to watch a loved one go through such a thing. 

Vincent seems all too pleased, “Now, where were we!?”

X x  X

It's easy when you think about it. To take control over people, to make them dance. All it takes is for the stakes to be high enough and to know the answer to a simple question.  _ Who is most important to you? In your life? In this room? In that car?  _ It doesn’t take an evil mind long to figure out the answer. Look at any team forced into life or death situations on a regular basis and bonds will cement, alliances will form, debts will be owed. Gil owed Malcolm more than he could fathom and on and on the dominoes fell. One into another into another.

Vincent had an easy enough time placing the tiles, knowing how they would tip. Malcolm would be the catalyst. Malcolm would be the main event. Vincent had watched and waited months for the right time. Patience was a strength of his. Originally it would have just been the trio, Gil, Dani and JT and that would have been enough. But then one day that bright eyed profiler came bounding into their lives like an overactive golden retriever and Vincent got the sense that Malcolm was special, he was important. 

Gil was blatantly smitten. They had an easy familiarity that only time can create. He cared for this kid and Vincent could see it in everything, from the playful sarcasm of a joke to a bourbon shared at the end of a long day. Then one night he spotted them outside having some serious and all too emotional conversation. Malcolm was upset and bothered about something like he usually was and Gil was there to calm him down, but that's when Vincent knew he had made the right choice for his number one player. Under the light of a flickering ‘Delicatessen’ sign Gil reached over and placed a comfortable and comforting hand behind Malcolm's neck. So reassuring. So fatherly.  _ This was going to be fun.  _ Vincent thought,  _ He would be the one. He would make Gil suffer.  _

Malcolm's other relationships with his teammates would just be an added bonus. Suffering free of charge! Vincent could tell there was a growing respect between the soldier and profiler. They were beginning to like each other, even beginning to joke. JT would be the perfect first round warm up. 

The girl would go second. A nice follow up after everyone's emotions were high and tempers were flaring. She was a fun one too, an unexpected treat. The best part was that she made things deliciously more complicated all on her own. Vincent didn't have to lift a finger. He loved watching as people made a fool of themselves, voluntarily choosing to be weak, needy and vulnerable. Get the popcorn out and sit back and relax. 

One night out of the blue, just when Vincent was getting bored, he caught a glimpse through Malcolms all too illuminated window.  _ It’s like he wants to be watched.  _ It was late and Dani looked to be taking care of the guy, helping him into his restraints and having a small chat. It was tiny, a simple gesture the sleeping profiler missed, but when Dani was leaving she turned around at the last second. Turned and really looked at Malcolm and smiled, shook her head and then locked the door.

Vincent spent more time at Malcolm’s place after that. Trusting his gut, waiting and watching for the moment he expected to eventually follow. One night, Dani was dressed in a disco ball of a thing, seemingly babysitting an awkward Malcolm who was acting stranger than usual. They danced, held hands. It lasted a few seconds but it was there and Vincent smiled to himself.

There was a different woman for a moment, but she came and went. Vincent thought about involving her too, but Malcolm had scared her off. Made his job easier. Then, during another late night when Vincent couldn’t sleep and neither could Malcolm, the man’s lights flicked on. As big and bright as a picture show. Dani walks in, Malcolm sits at his bar, offers her a cup of tea and they talk, talk for hours. He wishes he could hear what they say to one another, but he imagines it's sentimental and weak.

Another night goes by and it happens again: Malcolm wakes up, makes a cup of tea and she arrives. They talk and talk, though this time a bit closer. It goes on and on like this for a while. Sometimes Malcolm waits and sometimes it’s every night of the week. Sometimes they sit at the bar, sometimes they sit on the couch. Oftentimes they laugh, big twisted bouts where Dani is on her back and holding her stomach, but most of the time, they just smile.

On a particularly late-night, Vincent falls asleep while he watches, but when he wakes up, Dani and Malcolm are standing by the door. Malcolm’s hand rests on it’s latch, his other on her waist. They’re frozen, inches apart, caught in their own game and neither can decide on a next move. She leaves with a quick goodbye. Malcolm closes the door.  _ Coward. _

Now and then, Dani falls asleep. Vincent thinks about what he would do to her if he had the chance, her laying there so small and defenseless. But Malcolm does what Vincent could never do and simply covers her with a blanket and goes to bed himself. He doesn’t dream on those nights, even forgets to put on his restraints.

One day, Dani visits at dusk before Malcolm even has a chance to pretend he won’t call and they fight. A big argument with waving hands and pointed fingers. Dani seems unhinged. Her patient demeanor is completely erased by something Vincent cannot hear, but he knows that look in her eyes, has seen it a thousand times in the mirror and he understands it’s something serious. Something important to her.

Malcolm must see it too. It breaks him and makes him look weak. He crumbles to the floor. The balls of his hands pressed harshly into his eye sockets. His back arched like a vulnerable animal. The action diffuses Dani, disarms her. Her hands drop to her side and she stares at Malcolm for a moment, mouth resting in a little ‘o’ before she makes her way over. She sinks slowly to her knees and presses her forehead against Malcolm’s own. He opens his eyes, his heaving chest slowing its jittery motions. He cups her face with steady hands. They stay like this for a still instant before Dani closes the gap between them and they kiss.

Vincent didn’t have to watch after that. He knew he had waited long enough. This was going to be very,  _ very  _ fun. He was ready for the crash. 

X x  X 

“Ready for round three Malcolm?” Vincent’s thumbs massage small circles into Dani’s shoulder. It makes her cringe, but she stays and does not react for Malcolm’s sake.

Malcolm slowly begins to sit up. His motions are lethargic and cautious. One elbow then the next, then red stained hands touch the ground as he pushes himself all the way up. He sways a little in this new position. Dizzy and more unsteady than he or any of his team mates would like. A strong exhale pushes out through his nostrils, an attempt to quell his nauseous stomach before he replies with as much sarcasm as he can muster. 

“Can’t wait”. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Guys! So I really hope you enjoyed reading that. I am currently in the process of writing chapter 2 and I have A LOT of devious things planned. Meh heh he! I really must thank @nazyjayne aka MissKira for her amazing job reviewing this honk for me almost a year ago!? 2020 happened and I lost all will to create, but I'm back baby! Seriously. Thank you so much again. Your advice was essential and oh so helpful. WHO ELSE IS SO PUMPED FOR SEASON 2!?
> 
> Also please comment if you have any specific requests or ideas for chapter 2! I love a challenge and love hearing fresh Ideas!


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